To Storm the Gates of Hell
by fireball900
Summary: Summary: James Potter died in Blood Sacrifice on Halloween, taking Voldemort with him. Lily Potter was arrested and sent to Azkaban for it. 10 years later, Harry Potter arrives at Hogwarts, ready to take his place in the world, and free his mother from hell on earth, no matter the cost.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER! I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER!

This will be a Powerful!Grey!Harry Story. I don't know pairings yet, however they will (mostly) be straight. Harry at least will not be bi/gay. Nothing personal. I will say this, I don't plan on bashing any characters. If I have two ways of interpreting a character - as powerful or as stupid, I will choose powerful. So (For a canon example) - Voldemort was not stupid for wasting a year in the fourth book when he could have simply portkeyed Harry during a Hogsmeade trip. Instead, he was smart as the ritual had to take place on midsummer's day, it as strengthed by harry being a 'champion,' Dumbledore has blood-tracing magic placed on Harry so he would have been able to find him, the ritual involved far more than the ingredients we see, we only saw the final stage, etc.

So yes Harry will be powerful. Just expect Dumbledore to be more so, and for Voldemort to be a terror. On the same lines though. Harry will be smart, just expect Dumbledore to be smarter (albeit busy and getting old) and Voldemort to be an evil genius (albeit without most of his soul and having spend a decade as a wraith, so not all there).

Prologue.

Harry was always told by his relatives how his mother and killed his father and had been sent to prison for it. How she had both been freaks, and she eventually snapped. How they had been unemployed, drunkards, and wastes of space.

He would have believed them, if not for his nightmares. Ever since Harry was young, he had always had one recurring nightmare.

The room is a nursery, but it's covered in a bloody red haze. A dark snake-faced man steps in. A man stands in front of Harry, blocking his view. "You cannot take him," he says, his voice defiant and strong.

A high sibilant voice answers "You cannot stop me Potter, step aside and perhaps I shall let you live."

"Never."

"So be it. Avada Kedavra!" A green flash, and Harry's protector crumples. The killer walks forward, a distorted face looming into view. Then, two final words. "Avada Kedavra." Only this time the light is no green flash but an explosion of blood red fire. Then, the killer is gone. A red-haired woman runs in. She almost crumples at the sight of death, but runs to Harry.

Darkness.

Then, the woman being taken away, _dragged_ away. Accused of murder. And Harry is in the arms of an old man who promises to care for Harry.

And then Harry wakes up. In a the cupboard under the stairs at Number 4 Privet Drive.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER. HARRY POTTER IS NOT MINE!

When Harry was five, he decided that 'Everyone lies.' After all, his teachers said Dudley was a good boy, the neighbours said his relatives were good people, and his relatives said his mummy had killed his daddy. So, he started to never take people at their word. Ever. He always checked as much as he could, learned as much as he could. And because he was beaten whenever he performed better than Dudley, he never showed just how much he learned.

At seven, Harry decided that he had a life's goal. 'To save my mummy.' Ever since he had been told his mummy was in prison for killing his daddy, he knew that she shouldn't be there. So he would prove that fact.

At eight, Harry decided that 'the law serves the rich.' He saw Vernon bribing police officers who had come round to check on Harry's wellbeing. He heard of how Vernon bribed his way into an executive position in his company. He knew that is he was to save his mum, he would have to get rich, or get sneaky.

At nine, he discovered magic.

He had just appeared on the school roof. He had been wishing he was away from Dudley... and then he was. It was just like... '_There's no such thing as magic!' _The voice echoed into his mind from his memories. How Vernon or Petunia would always yell that whenever something weird happened, would always blame Harry for it.

He had known that people always lied. He just never took it to its logical extent. He should have not just thought about direct meanings. And their yelling that meant... Magic existed! And Harry had that!

And, a thought followed that. He was a 'freak like his parents.' That meant his parents had magic too! His mind visited his nightmare, always fresh on his mind. That explains it. The explosion, the words. _Avada Kedavra._ Some sort of killing spell? And what he just did. He teleported! Not the most offensive of powers, but it would do, for now.

It took Harry another hour to teleport back down, and by then he had missed the bell for class. He didn't care. He tried to teleport again, and again, and again.

Eventually, he got tired, and went back home.

In the end, it took Harry two weeks to get down teleporting the the point where he could do it reliably after concentrating for five seconds, and only around ten times a day. He realised fairly soon that a lot of the work came from visualising where he wanted to go, so he started checking out books from the library on improving his memory, imagination and visualisation. That lead to meditation, which after a couple of months of practise led to...

_What is that! _Harry shouted mentally. He had been meditating in his cupboard before going to sleep, and had suddenly realised something. He could feel something. It... It reminded him of when he would stand on the roof of tall buildings looking out at the sunset. Of the wind that caressed his face and wrapped around his body. It was... _there _in his body. His... heart, his head. A when he concentrated on it, it felt like he was _flying!_ Harry didn't know what it was but it was the most wonderful feeling in the world!

And suddenly it was gone, and Harry collapsed on his bed. He was exhausted, and yet buzzed beyond belief. He had never felt anything like that.

Wait! He had! When he had teleported, he could remember feeling it almost, like a light aftertaste hours after eating.

If that was what he could do barely touching it, imagine what he could do while _immersed_ in it.

The next day Harry tried it. He stood on the rooftop of the school gym, the place he had first teleported to all those months ago. It seemed appropriate. He fixed his eyes on a spot a few meters away. "Start small", he whispered to himself.

He closed his eyes, seeking that balance within himself. The magic. The minutes ticked by. Ten minutes, Twenty. Thirty. Finally, after forty minutes, he had it. And he touched it, immersed himself in it and opened his green eyes as they blazed with power. "Teleport." He whispered, and he did. Instantly, with no other build up, his magic rose up within, around and as part of him. No, not as part of him. _As him._ And then he let go of it, letting it drop back from a roaring storm to a shadow of a whisper.

He collapsed to the ground with exhaustion immediately. But he had done it! And with so much _ease!_ He had not used his magic, he had _been_ his magic as much as his magic had been him.

But it was too tiring to use. He had dropped dead instantly, but, maybe for things that _needed _doing, no matter what. Yes, then he could. And in the meantime, Harry smiled to himself. It would be an brilliant way to fall asleep. And even better, it would tire him out. And, best of all, last night he hadn't had any nightmares, his mind too empty and tired to do so.

Brilliant.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Expect the chapters to get longer. I didn't want to spend to long on the Hogwarts parts, as that (almost) always annoyed me when reading a fic. So expect the chapters to get longer. On to Diagon Alley!


End file.
